About The Girl

Not-so-silent observations that splinter my conversations.
Harnessing the steady flow of random thoughts and musings that continuously interrupt my daily conversations. Paired here with my artwork and photographs from recent adventures.
Non sequitur (pronounced \ˈnän-ˈse-kwə-tər\)- a response which, due to its apparent lack of meaning relative to its context, seems absurd to the point of being humorous or confusing.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Each time I find myself thinking, "I'm afraid that..." I realize that I am allowing fear to influence my actions.

Someday, in the near or distant future, I will look back and wish I'd taken the risk.

How many times have you thought, I wish I had...

A healthy respect for the consequences of our actions and decisions is responsible.

Is a life lived without risk - of injury, of heartbreak, of failure - a life worth living?

I will fail, I will love and lose, I will stumble and hiccup and along the way I will live voraciously, love deeply and sincerely and live authentically. And all of this will smply pave the way for when I shine, I thrive and everything works out even better than I ever could have imagined.

Synopsis:Deceit, treachery, and romance are combined in this depiction of a fierce race from China to New England between the American ship Yankee Clipper and the English ship Lord of the Isles. Silent, 1927Starring: William Boyd, Elinor Fair, Frank "Junior" Coghlan, John Miljan, Walter Long

Girl meditating beneath a tree stung by a bee. Sounds like a tabloid headline. So reads the synopsis of my afternoon.

Bees are considered divine messengers. What does this mean?

I was simply trying to follow my goal: meditating on the finality of letting go. Releasing struggle. This was it. A ritual to signify the final goodbye.

Answers arrive. Sometimes in a timely fashion. Others much later in my life. In some cases I have had to let go of the answer coming before it has agreed to arrive.

Letting go.

Other times, while the answer may be present, I am simply, unwilling or unable to recognize it.

How to find closure in this time? Simply thank the event for being part of my overall experience. Let it go. This brings a sense of completion and closure to the process that this life experience has made possible.

Today I make this letting go a tangible act. In the hopes that my heart is lighter for it.

I write my final journal entry on the subject. I meditate with the intention of releasing this event from my consciousness. As I do so, I summon this experience one last time. I honor it with my love and attention. I acknowledge my gratitude for this experience.

And I say good-bye.

Then I let it go.

Released out from the very pores of my being. Pouring forth from my heart, my hands, my head, my feet. Free from within me. Liberated. This burden is gone.

My intention was to let go.

I sat peacefully envisioning and experiencing for one last time the emotional spectrum of these past two years. Nestled among the sturdy, sprawling roots beneath that significant tree. It seemed only appropriate.

I clearly imagined releasing it all. Letting it go...

BEE GONE!

And in that moment a tickling under my arm startled me. I reached up only to grasp the innocent creature in my hand. In so doing I plucked his stinger from him. I could clearly see it. Efficiently anchored in my tender skin.

A divine messenger? What if I misinterpret the message? I was letting go. Isn't that what I was supposed to do?

Bees were thought to carry knowledge of the future. Can I have a glimpse at the next chapter along with the conveniently embedded stinger? Please?

What does this mean!? Or is my lesson to let this go as well. Carry on as intended. Stay focused. Say a final goodbye.

I'd like to exorcise the swollen nagging in my arm along with the rest. Or shall I let this distract me from my task. Am I not meant to let go, quite yet?

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'" John Greenleaf Whittier

Sadder still "it may still be" when hope should have been drowned long ago...

There is something magical about the buoyant quality of salty ocean water.

Buoyancy is an upward force equal to the weight of water displaced by an object. Objects in salt water appear more buoyant than objects in fresh water because salt water is denser than fresh water. SALT.

The freedom of simply floating on one's back. Cradles by the warm, salty water and gently rocked by the waves.

In that moment I held in my heart a sense of buoyant hope. Hope floats, you see.

Today there are moments when I wish I could drown my hope. It stubbornly rises to the surface. Persistent as my breath.

Hope floats. Apparently cheerfully buoyant. Resistant to the nagging reality of the situation or the heavy weight of the factual evidence and experience at hand.

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it." Helen Keller

Is it possible to suffer from persistent, illegitimate hope?

There is an African proverb that goes something like: however long the night, the dawn will break. This is the thinking that rationalizes my floating hope.

How long does one wait for the sun to reappear? How many months? If only my hope had a sense of ordinary time. Hope is epically patient.

"We enjoy warmth because we have been cold. We appreciate light because we have been in darkness. By the same token, we can experience joy because we have known sadness." David Weatherford

And when the joy arrives, as the eagerly anticipated rains after a long drought, the contrast allows for a deeper sense of appreciation for what was, what is and what might still be...HOPE.

What do you hope for? Is there anything that might have been still lingering in your heart?

But there could be so much more. Today I went on a long morning walk to reconnect with my dear friend. And rather than sped this precious time dwelling on where we've been, what will happen, what we want, what we might become, what we've said and done - a first - I was able to remain in inquiry mode and simply remain present.

A small triumph. Baby steps.

I enjoyed our walk, (with I might happily add a limited nod to non sequiturs), and held my mind gracefully trained upon us, our current state and reminding myself that right now this is plenty.

I have stopped the cycle of wanting and suffering. I am surrendering to what is. Just in this moment. And the glorious freedom that comes with the knowledge that each moment holds the possibility of change...HOPE.

This is enough. I have enough. In this moment, this is what we have and this is plenty.

And then I proceeded with my day.

And this day has been just right. Because in this moment I am free from my expectations of what might or might not be. I am enough. I have enough.

Plenty.

I feel myself peering over the edge every now and then. Looking down upon the landscape of what might be, what could be, what I would love to be...but for now I am somehow strong enough to resist the urge to follow that path. I have plenty of strength. Please let me continue to have plenty of strength.

There is vast power in not knowing. It is the freedom and the choices we make during these opportunity gaps. I choose to remain present and strong. I have plenty.

What do you have plenty of?

P.S. Thank you for your patience as I make some exciting technical updates...images and blog posts will return to their regular, predictable schedule over the next few days! Stay tuned.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

There is something utterly delicious about writing the first words on a clean, white page. I am never quite certain where they will lead me.

The maelstrom of undocumented words swirling in my head leaves me dizzy. There is order in placing them neatly, one after another, single filed across a blank page. Left to right.

There are times when my words flow faster that my hand can possibly travel. Complete paragraphs cascading from the reservoir of my mind. A stray thought can send them alight as a strong wind does the fallen petals of spring!

Is it my anticipation of what might be that makes the first words so delightful?

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